Z One Hundred and One ONESHOT
by Fanatical Writer
Summary: Post episode 100 - Prentiss does her best to get Hotch back in the game. Vague summary due to last nights episode. I don't want to spoil it for anyone! ONESHOT


_Author's Note: I'm not typically a Hotch/Prentiss shipper, but I needed to get Hotch to a different place in my head! This is where he ended up. Also--this contains major spoilers for last nights episode._

_Two months later…_

Emily Prentiss grabbed her bag and headed for Hotch's office. He hadn't been in the field for two months, and she was afraid that if he didn't do it soon, he would never do it again. He'd been cleared to return three weeks ago, but hadn't yet taken the leap. She knocked on his office door and opened it, stepping inside. He was sitting at his desk with his usual expression—a blank stare.

"Hotch?" she asked.

He looked up, surprised to see her standing there.

"You coming?"

He slowly shook his head no.

She took a deep breath and closed the door, taking the seat across from him. She rubbed her sweaty palms on the legs of her black dress pants. Nervousness wasn't an emotion she was used to. "Are you ever going to come back, Hotch?"

His eyes were on her, but he wasn't looking at her. He was looking _through_ her. She lifted a hand in the air and waved it back and forth slowly. "Hotch?"

"What if every UnSub turns into him?" he asked in a monotone voice.

"I'm not sure I understand what you mean," she replied carefully.

"He killed her, Prentiss," he said. "He killed Haley." His voice was still raw with pain.

She nodded. "I know," she said softly.

"So what if I kill him?"

She stood there for a moment, confused. George Foyet was already dead.

"Over and over again," he continued. "What if every UnSub turns into him, and I try to kill George Foyet over and over again?" he asked. He wouldn't say these things to just anybody—he knew they could be used against him. But with Prentiss, she'd proven where her loyalties were. She'd quite the BAU for him once before instead of turning on him. His eyes met hers and she knew he was finally seeing her. Her heart crumbled at the fear she could see in them. "What if that happens to me?" he asked desperately. She'd never seen Hotch like this. It only served to feed her anxiety.

She took a deep breath and stood, reaching for his hand. "I don't worry about that," she said firmly. "You are the complete _opposite_ of George Foyet. You…bring mothers _home_ to their children; you don't _rip_ families apart! You _save_ peoples lives, Hotch; you don't _take_ them away! You are _not_ George Foyet," she reminded him fiercely, her grip on his hand tightening.

His eyes looked down at their joined hands and she quickly pulled hers away, her eyes looking anywhere but at him.

"What if your faith is misplaced?" he asked softly.

Her eyes flew back to his. "What if it's _not_?" And then a thought suddenly struck her. "Hotch—are you thinking of _leaving_ the BAU?"

He didn't say a word, but she knew she was spot on when his cheek began to tick. "Hotch," she said softly. "You can't possibly…" She swallowed past the lump in her throat at the thought of this man—this confident, caring, capable man who had spent most of his life _helping _people—giving that up. It was a large part of what made him who he was. "If you need to leave, then take a leave of absence," she said, her tone bordering on frantic. "I think it might even be good for you. And for you and Jack. But for God's sake, Hotch; don't let this man do this to you! Don't let him stop you from doing what you love to do! What will…help _so_ many people and save _so_ many lives! Don't you _dare_ let him do this to you!"

"Jack deserves a full-time father," Hotch said, his gaze once again leaving hers.

"Even if that man is miserable?" Emily shot back. She laughed bitterly. "You wouldn't be happy with a nine to five, Hotch. You _know_ that."

"What makes you think you know me so well?" he asked. His tone was low, but she could still hear the anger.

"I have spent most of the last three years with you, that's what!" she told him, standing up. Now the blood in her own veins was boiling. And she had to remind herself that she had a jet to catch. She took a deep breath. "If you leave…look, I know this probably isn't the best time for this, but…with all that's happened, I don't even know if you'll _be_ here when we get back so, here's the thing. I want you to stay, because I respect you. I respect who you are, and I respect what you do. And not in _spite_ of this thing that's happened, but _because_ of it!" Her eyes locked on his and she forced the usual guard that was in them to fall away—allowed the feelings that she usually kept hidden so deep inside to rise to the surface."I want you stay because…if you leave, we'll never know what could have been."


End file.
